


Like the deserts miss the rain

by Bernardina



Category: Eurovision Song Contest RPF, Festival di Sanremo RPF
Genre: Cigarettes, M/M, They are soft here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:34:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24649543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bernardina/pseuds/Bernardina
Summary: Fabrizio's visits are always a joy for Ermal, something to look forward to, something to wish for. Just like many good things, these visits have to end. Ermal doesn't usually let his insecurities speak louder than the voice of reason, but 3 a.m. isn't the time when he can control his words well.
Relationships: Ermal Meta/Fabrizio Moro
Comments: 6
Kudos: 19





	Like the deserts miss the rain

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, I'm alive (I guess). This little thing was written spontaneously. I didn't forget about wafts and my plans for other stories, life just hasn't been kind, and I'm still struggling with writing. I hope you enjoy this drabble💜 The song that inspired me is Missing in Justin Morgan's acoustic version

It was 3 a.m., which is arguably not the best time to listen to the songs on the radio and smoke another one of many cigarettes, but he couldn't help himself. It was raining heavily, large drops shattering on the floor of their balcony and watering exotic plants they put there for the summer. Might not be too good for some, the pots better be carried back inside. Though neither Ermal nor Fabrizio felt like being responsible now.

"You are shivering", Fabrizio noted and pulled Ermal closer, under the comforting warmth of his coat that still smelled like the coffee they had for breakfast and the car that became home for Fabrizio for the few hours it took him to get to Milan. Ermal leaned closer and breathed in the scent, wishing to remember it whole, so that he would find comfort in that memory when his hands wash the cup of the same coffee and the same car honks him goodbye before disappearing around the corner. He didn't mind having a routine, but when he thought of it, the picture he imagined was different.

For someone who criticized most songs on the radio Ermal allowed them to affect him quite often. It wasn't his fault everything broadcasted at night matched his mood with terrible accuracy. The glass of the balcony door, cold against his hand, covered with raindrops on the other side, added a light touch of melancholy to the acoustic sounds. Like a shot from a music video. Life imitates art. He closed his eyes for a change of scenery, but his mind offered him nothing but blackness. He decided to take whatever he could. After all, wasn't that what he always did?

_And I miss you like the deserts miss the rain…_

"Such a cliche comparison, yeah?" Ermal chuckled, clutching Fabrizio's jacket tighter, as if holding for support. "Simple, silly, and yet…"

"And yet?" Fabrizio softly kissed his curls and let the words tangle in them, leaving another memory for Ermal to play again and again in his mind.

"Have you ever thought if the rain misses the desert too?" Ermal could feel Fabrizio slightly tense, like many times when Ermal was talking in metaphors when the sun wasn't shining and the sky wasn't bright enough for him to see the expression on his love's face clearly.  
"Have you?" Ermal repeated, something almost like begging tones in his voice cracked by cigarettes and maybe something else yet left to unravel.

Fabrizio shook his head and pulled him closer, trying to calm him with soothing caresses, which usually would work, Ermal knew it would, and he felt a little annoyed that now it didn't.

"Because the answer is no. Because the rain can go anywhere in the world and be welcomed with smiles, but the desert will stay at the same place doing nothing but waiting for the rain to come and give it water to hold on for some time while expecting the rain to return any moment. Any moment could be the right one, but they turn wrong one by one. Though there is still hope, even if nothing else. But what can the desert give back to the rain, when it's so dry and inhospitable? When it's nothing but lots and lots of sand, when-"

His voice broke, and he swallowed the emotions down, a thing he was used to do, though usually not around Fabrizio. Those tricks never worked on him.

"Ermal? How long do you… feel this way?"

"Me? We weren't talking about me." A cowardly move but a necessary one to buy himself some time, for he always had too little.

"Is this because I have to leave Milan tomorrow?"

"No. It's because you have to leave me."

It didn't feel like dropping the bomb, more like stating the obvious, at least obvious to him. Fabrizio sensed his struggles but never confronted him about them. Perhaps not wanting to make it even worse. Or maybe just not knowing what to say. On the contrary to the popular belief, songwriters aren't able to perfectly express themselves verbally whenever they wish for it, Ermal knew it well.

"I can take another day off. Claudio won't be too happy, but he'll understand. Or I can take you with me."

"You know I have work here. There is an album coming up, I'm nearly done with the recording."

"You can work from my studio. Last time it worked out well."

How many times can something work well until it breaks? He was probably just being immature, something people often said about him. He preferred not to think about it.

Fabrizio was logical. Impossibly logical for someone who was described as a hurricane on stage and sometimes off it. Fabrizio could always offer a perfect solution, a suitable way that Ermal had no arguments against, nothing except the strange sensation deep inside repeating _wrong, wrong, wrong_ like a broken recorder. One more cup of coffee, and Ermal's memory would become a broken recorder too.

"I suppose I can stay for a few days…" Ermal started, giving in again. Losing in an argument with Fabrizio wasn't something unusual for him. Neither was the need to be near, embarrassingly sincere and perhaps too naive for his age.

"Or you could stay forever."

Ashes of Fabrizio's cigarette fell right into the ashtray. Precise and well-aimed, just like his words.

"What do you mean?"

"What can I mean?" Fabrizio's chuckle was even warmer than all of his leather jackets that still smelled like coffee that they were drinking that morning from the cups he would wash the next day after Fabrizio's car-

"I'm asking you to move in with me. I can even help you put all your colourful shirts in a suitcase."

"Don't you dare touch my shirts, last time you stole two!" Ermal giggled but fell silent just a second after. Somehow happy moods at 3 a.m. don't last long.

"Are you actually serious?" he asked, shutting his eyes and trying to stop the cheers of early hopes, like a kid afraid to scare a miracle away.

"I am. You are my family, Ermal, and I think family should be together."

"Bizio…"

At that moment he would let this man steal all of his shirts if it meant he wasn't dreaming.

The next morning they were listening to the happy summery songs on the radio, Ermal criticizing them over a cup of coffee, Fabrizio watching him with a smile. After breakfast and a kiss, more sweet than bitter, he let Fabrizio out of the apartment and waved him goodbye, looking at the car disappearing into the distance. He was given two weeks to pack his things and deal with work matters. Also to reconsider his choice and change it any moment he wants, but he purposely missed this information and instead focused on Fabrizio's lips mouthing these words. While washing their cups which Fabrizio didn't even bother putting into the sink, too busy with kisses and other important matters, Ermal heard raindrops tap on his window. Turning around and narrowing his eyes at the bright yellow sun, he _smiled_.


End file.
